The Littlest Drag Queen
by Operatic
Summary: The Little Mermaid, AngelCollins style. Please excuse the crappy title. And it's multi chaptered, shock gasp!


**note: This will be a multi-chaptered fic and I will get new ones up as soon as I can. Please be patient though, I'm not always the fastest with the uploading :( things are pretty hectic right now with school and a play, plus I wanna have some resemblance of a social life! lol. So I'll go as fast as I can, but please be patient :) **

The lights were dim. A drum roll began. The few people in the audience (tourists, mostly, I Love New York and Statue of Liberty clad), they shut their mouths, put down their bottles and directed their eyes to the red velvet curtains as they crookedly rolled back. It was clear from the beginning, this wasn't no high scale, high class, lights and sounds Broadway show. In fact, most of the twenty or so people, sitting in their wobbly chairs at round tables, were probably only there for the pure novelty of it. So they have some other type of story to tell the folks at home.

Because how many small town folks had been to a real life, New York City drag show?

"Ladies...gentlemen...and those of you who have yet to make up your minds..."

Backstage, the girls lined up for the grand entrance. The girls. Tall, broad shouldered...and a good number of them despite any good intentions...couldn't create the illusion. But they practiced hard, for many hours a day and very little pay, just to get by. Hurrying, rushing, they assembled themselves as their director did a quick head count.

"Ruby? Good."

"Are you thinking of turning back?" the emcee continued.

"Emerald...Sephora. Check, check."

"Why would you ever?"

"Diamond..."

"And miss the best show of your lives?"

"Nini? Fantastic. And..."

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you..."

There was silence backstage. They counted again, some used their fingers, some didn't need to, and the director lowered his checklist. The five drag queens, the one man, the six of them, none of them were geniuses. But it didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on.

"And Angel...Angel is a dead queen _walking_."

Though she wasn't so much walking. No. At that precise moment, Angel Dumott Schunard happened to be sitting. Riding the subway. She wasn't so fond of the subway; she liked being able to watch the streets and the people go by. But unfortunately, the bus could only take you so far. See, Angel was going somewhere that neither Nini nor Diamond or Sephora went often.

But Angel wasn't much like Nini or Diamond or Sephora. For one, she wasn't nearly as tall; the only time she reached their height was when she had the extra inches her heels provided. Her shoulders weren't so broad and her waist wasn't so thick (a natural thin figure, paired with years of walking where she needed to go, had kept her trim). Her wigs weren't so ratty, she'd learned over time certain tricks on how to keep them glossy and clean. She wasn't like them either, in that she didn't rely on alter egos, she didn't do Cher or Madonna. Angel was Angel was Angel, and when she got home the drag and the makeup stayed on. When she went out, she was a drag queen. When she got home, she was Angel without any need for explanation and that was the way she liked it.

And when she got home, Angel didn't have a girlfriend or a boyfriend. She didn't waste her money, either, the little money she got; hell, she felt lucky to have a roof over her head. Instead, Angel did her own thing. She made her own clothes. And was pretty damn good at it, too. She could easily elaborate, exaggerate, be a drag queen in her own home. Be a faulty, be a fake, material plastic Madonna queen, with the big clothes, big hair, big ego to match. But that wasn't her, and remembering that she was always herself never someone else, she chose a simple look. On some days she wondered if maybe she could pass, if maybe with a turtle neck and a really good makeup job she could possible blend in. But where was the fun in that?

Her clothes happened to be the exact reason she was there on the subway. Finger swirling around the cloth spread over her lap, she leaned back against the (sorta) cushiony seat of the subway.

"I dunno, chica. Couldn't you like...make some drapes or something? Cause I swear...I don't wanna be stared at by the guy across the street. I get it enough at work," the Latina beside her added quietly. Mimi Marquez was an 'exotic dancer', a stripper to cut to the chase. And she was the nicest person Angel'd ever met in her life, her best friend and roommate. It really was a matter of circumstance they lived together, there was no way in the world they could each afford their own place on their own. But they both loved it.

With a sigh, Angel gave her best pleading look. "I will, honey, but...look! So pretty," she protested, holding out the fabric. It was colourful and swirly and bright and she loved it to death. "It needs to be seen...please? Next time, next time, I _promise_," she added at Mimi's look.

"I'll hold you to it," she humphed, though it was clear there was a smile under all that frown. Angel smirked, brushing a piece of her black wig behind her ear. But when the subway jerked to a stop, it popped right back out pf place again (typical). "Is this us?" Mimi asked, looking up at the map (though knowing she was useless with it anyway).

"I think so..." Angel stood, biting her lip hopefully. Being stranded in New York with no idea where to go? How fun! Especially at...probably...close to seven when it was already dark (Angel was just guessing. She had a watch, retrieved from a cereal box and covered with fabric to jazz it up, but it refused to keep the right time, always ran ahead of the real time and really messed her up before she figured it out).

The two girls made their way up the stairs and onto the surface again. It wasn't completely dark, there were still one or two hints of sunlight in the sky, but they'd probably disappear in the next half hour or so. Mimi pulled a slip of paper out of her bag, reading the address quickly, and they began to make their way.

The problem with having Maureen Johnson as a friend was she never seemed to stay in one place. One could never be sure where she was going to end up next. In a way Angel and Mimi were better off than her, in that they actually had a regular living space. But Maureen was a different type of person; she went from woman to woman to man to woman, her living address changing at least every few months. This mid-November, however, it would appear that Maureen Johnson had moved up in the world.

Because these weren't the ruddy, worn down old buildings the girls were used to. As they walked down the sidewalk, everything seemed so new and shiny and clean, and nothing like where they themselves lived. A new car drove by and Angel almost thought she was seeing things. They passed a tall church, white and strong, with a parking lot full of nice cars with rosaries on the mirrors and Icthys bumper stickers. Very little trash littered the streets...along with very little people who weren't at least in the middle class. Angel gulped.

"Are you sure we got off the right place...?" Mimi asked after making one poor man, who happened to have never seen a drag queen in his life, practically run for the hills all with a look. Two people on the sidewalk were not like the others and it wasn't hard to tell the difference. Angel frowned and looked at the slip of paper, rereading the address.

"I hope so...there," she spotted the tall apartment building in question. Already it was clear, it was about ten times nicer than their humble (so very very humble) abode. Maureen must've really turned on the charm that time around. Carefully and quickly they crossed the street, not used to dodging so many cars.

"14E...14F...14G..." Mimi said each apartment number as they passed it. The doors were oak, they looked sturdy (_note to self_, she thought, _bribe someone to fix our door._) "What letter are they?"

"P," Angel sighed. Though she was grateful for one thing; this building had an elevator. She'd forgotten how nice it was not to lug herself up the stairs. She forgot how nice it was to be lazy sometimes. They continued in silence, two pairs of heels moving soundlessly on the carpeted hall.

"Aaand...14P!" Mimi called triumphantly as they reached the door. It was just like all the others, a dark brown stainer had been uniformly painted over the strong wood. Angel wasn't sure she'd ever seen anything so...not like Maureen. Somehow she'd been expecting...she wasn't sure what exactly, but something a little less of a bore. Even just a shinier doorknob would have been nice, rather than the dark brass.

"Well," she sighed, leaning against the wall slightly. For some reason she couldn't quite explain...she almost wanted to turn back and go home again. She was a total fish out of water, and it was making her uncomfortable. It was just Maureen, she was trying to reason with herself. But what about Maureen's new girlfriend? She just felt...strange. "I guess...one of us should knock."

"Right," Mimi nodded, and Angel could tell she wasn't alone in her feelings. And it was so silly too. Who had ever heard of being intimidated by a door? Besides...if they both knew one thing, it was that Maureen wouldn't change. Nothing could change that girl, no matter who she was with. "Guess I will."

And Mimi was fully intending to do that, too. If only the door of apartment 14Q hadn't swung open in that moment.

Angel, ever the smart one, had been leaning against the wall, a good portion of her back resting on said door. Angel was also wearing a good size pair of heels (size _did_ matter, to her, anything under an inch was for wimps). And after a good swing of the door, she very nearly twisted her right ankle as the fine strong oak was jarred into her back.

Her face contorted in pain and she swore, not so quietly either. Both her ankle and her back smarted, she rubbed her back because she figured it was slightly less awkward. Only slightly. The resident of 14Q (who ever he or she was, Angel's back was turned and didn't see them) shut the door and was quickly apologetic.

"Oh my god, I didn't...are you alright?" Was she alright? He (the voice confirmed the resident was indeed a he) just slammed a door into her back. But no reason to get testy right? Angel spun around (good ankle, on her good ankle), to get a good look at him.

Angel had been with alot of people, if you figured. Angel had been on many dates, she'd had many crushes. But she had never, ever fell in love. She always thought, it should happen when you least expect it. Angel knew every word of 'Love Story' and cried at all the right parts. She was, really and truly, a romantic. But she'd never been in love, not really. The first time she thought she was, her heart had been mangled and smashed and blown up, and afterwords she realized maybe it hadn't been love at all. But she'd never ever given up on love, she just didn't look for it. She knew it would come to her, when she least expected it.

And she could honestly say, she didn't expect love to form from a near broken back (and alot of exaggeration). But there she was, a little taken aback. Her knees were weak, and she was fairly certain it wasn't from her injury. His eyes had a certain warmth to them you didn't see often; they were kind eyes. Cause from looking at them she felt like she knew, like she could just sit down beside him and talk to him without judgment or fear. But he looked strong too; no body builder or anything, but he had strong arms. She'd always liked that. He was handsome. And already she could feel the blood rushing to her face, and the thumpa thumpa of her heart sped up to a bang bang bang.

"I'm alright," she replied, somehow pulling herself back to Earth long enough to reply. He was looking at her too and suddenly she was self conscious, moving her hand down her arm to play with her bracelet and she wanted to go up on her toes, if only to seem a little taller, but she remembered her ankle in the nick of time and tried to cool down. What was Mimi doing during all this? Damn if Angel knew, nothing else seemed to be getting through to her.

"Well, I'm...I'm really sorry miss," he replied, and he called her miss and it made her smile. And just like that he was off, to wherever it was he was headed anyway, before he knocked her flying, in more ways than one.


End file.
